


The Trust of Self

by donutsweeper



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Multi, Reveal, Trick Or Treat Prompts Challenge, Trick or Treat: Treat, Were-Creatures, implied threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-08 07:57:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21232427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donutsweeper/pseuds/donutsweeper
Summary: As partners they trusted each other with their lives; when it came down to it, they trusted each other with their true selves too.





	The Trust of Self

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coaldustcanary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coaldustcanary/gifts).

They probably never would have seen Illya's other form if it hadn't been for the explosion. 

Previously Napoleon had a few suspicions over the matter and he assumed Gaby did as well, not that he would have ever breached the subject with either her or Illya. He was well acquainted with the rumors about the KGB and its use of dark magic that had been circling since the War and anyone who had even the remotest of ties to the world of espionage had heard stories of shining yellow eyes, elongated limbs, impossible acrobatics or unnatural abilities. Said tales were usually attributed to the partner of a colleague of a fellow agent whose cover had been blown or target lost or case bungled due to the KGB's intervention so they always had to be taken with a grain of salt, but, despite that, they were so prevalent, so commonplace, that they couldn't be dismissed out of hand.

In the nine months they'd been working together since Waverly had officially co-opted them to become U.N.C.L.E. agents and partners they had learned much about one another and come to trust each other with their lives. That, however, had not meant they trusted each other with their secrets. Some, more innocuous ones, sure. But not all. 

Maybe everything would have come out between them given enough time even if not for the boobytrap that Napoleon had failed to notice, but when it came to the moment of choosing to keep his secret, or saving Napoleon and Gaby's lives, Illya hadn't hesitated. 

Illya hadn't been in the room with them. He was playing the role of a bodyguard relegated to the job of doorman while his charges seemingly slipped off into a bedroom for a quick tryst, a job that wasn't far off from what he was actually doing, which was guarding the door while Napoleon broke into the room's safe so they could take photos of the plans being stored in there.

Getting into the safe had been child's play for someone of Napoleon's skills and he couldn't help but shout a triumphant "Ta-da!" as he flung it open wide. Gaby, however, responded with neither a snide comment about his showing off nor her indulgent, almost patronizing smile, but rather her eyes grew wide as a result of what she saw inside. Spurned by her reaction of combined surprise and terror, Napoleon looked in the safe and saw the bomb for himself. "Take cover!" he shouted as he made a grab for the still swinging door, hoping that he could get it closed enough that the safe would contain the explosion, at least to some extent.

Time seemed to slow. He was dimly aware of the door to the room splintering and shattering as a dark form barreled into the room. Napoleon and Gaby were both swept off their feet, tucked together against fur and muscle that carried them over the settee and towards the window at the same moment the explosion ripped through the room.

The noises blurred together; Gaby's scream and the breaking of glass breaking combined with the rattling boom and whoosh of the boobytrap and then they were through the second story window and hurtling down to the snow-covered bushes and bramble. The beast that had grabbed them managed to twist while they were in the air in order to break their fall with its own body as much as possible. There was no time to stop and talk or access injuries or even take a second to even think because within seconds of hitting the ground there were shouts and gunfire and then the three of them, the creature (Illya, it was Illya, somehow he just _knew _it) included, were running for their lives across the well lit grounds into the relative safety of the dark forest.

"If we go northeast," Napoleon shouted as they breached the treeline, "we'll avoid the road."

Already quite a bit ahead of them the creature must have both heard and accepted the suggestion because it altered its course someone to head in that direction. Under most circumstances following a creature into woods at night in the middle of winter while wearing nothing more than an evening coat and armed only with his trusty Browning HP and a knife would be suicidal, but Napoleon trusted Illya with his life, no matter what form Illya currently took.

It had been instinctive. Somewhere in his hindbrain, in that fight-or-flight recess of deep within the core of his being, he'd recognized Illya and relaxed when the creature grabbed him and Gaby and had felt safe rather than attacked or threatened. The fact that the creature's reactions had been protective—shielding them from the explosion, turning to break their fall, leading them through the dark—served to reinforce that his trust had been well placed.

After they'd traveled perhaps an additional half mile or so Napoleon, who was guarding their rear, called out, "We've lost them. We should take a short break to figure out a new plan since our last one literally blew up in our faces."

"Oh good. Now come over here and let me take a look at you," Gaby declared as she dramatically threw herself onto a fallen log. "I'm talking to you, Illya, and since you changed your direction earlier, I know you can understand us in that form." When Illya didn't move, she added, "I am cold, wet, and tired. Do not test me. Get your furry butt over here this instant."

If a shadowy wolf creature could look chastised Illya certainly did, slinking up to Gaby and Napoleon as slowly as possible without crossing the line of being too obvious about it. This close, Napoleon realized just how big Illya was. The cautious way he was standing, all hunched in on himself, like he was trying to take up as little space as possible, did nothing to hide the fact he was probably six feet long from head to tail with long legs and a broad chest. His coloring was a combination of shades of grey other than a thin line of black just to the side of one of his bright blue eyes in the exact same place his scar was when he was human. 

"That's better," Gaby said once he'd inched his way close enough to what she deemed an acceptable distance. She reached out like she was about to touch his head but then jerked her hand back when he shied away from her. "Now, now, none of that. I'm not scared of you, Illya Kuryakin. Not when you are human and I have to stand on a table to look you in the eye and not now. But I am worried about you. I don't know anything about transformations or how much energy they take or if they hurt but between that, the bomb, crashing through the window and breaking our fall I just want to know, are you all right? Can I check you over?"

Huffing softly, Illya took a step forward and planted his feet firmly and presented himself stiffly, as if for inspection. 

"What's the matter, wolf got your tongue, or can't you speak in this form?"

Even in his current beastly form the put-upon, 'Are you kidding me' look Illya gave Gaby before he shook his head was instantly recognizable and it took everything Napoleon had not to laugh.

Gaby had no such compunction and chuckled, commenting, "Just so you know, that look isn't quite the same when you're not calling me a chop shop girl," as she examined him. Never a fan of post-mission checkups, he was as stoic about it as always, although since he was unable to vocally protest as he tried to hide flinches and wounds, it was less productive. "Some of these cuts and scrapes are pretty deep and should probably be bandaged and from his reactions I assume there's a broken rib or two, but I have no way of knowing for certain." 

"It's not like he would tell us if he did." Napoleon turned to Illya, "Peril, why haven't you changed back?"

Illya huffed again, this time in his 'Cowboy, you are an idiot' kind of way and reached over, biting the cuff of Napoleon's coat and tugging it lightly for a second before releasing it and, when that didn't seem to get his point across, nosed his own shoulder and paws.

"Ah. Your clothing was either left behind or destroyed when you transformed? I appreciate you thinking of our safety then. A large, naked Russian would most likely act like a beacon and direct our pursuers straight to us."

All things considered, Napoleon should have expected the light nip he got in response to that. He hadn't quite decided how he was going to retaliate, be it another verbal slight or maybe flicking one of Illya's ears, when Gaby noticeably shivered and he decided that discretion was the better part of valor and let the matter drop in favor of commenting, "Peril, it's all well and good that you have a fur coat to keep you warm, but Gaby and I are going to need to keep moving or find some cover soon." 

"Speak for yourself, Solo," Gaby grumbled, but she got to her feet as she spoke. 

"If Peril here could talk I'm sure he'd say something about my weak American constitution but, thankfully, we are spared such blatant assaults on my character. However, that said, just because we have temporarily lost our pursuers that doesn't mean it will continue to be the case and that alone is a good reason to get moving again. The chance of finding someplace to hide out for the night or a vehicle to return to civilization in will just be a bonus."

"Illya, you were the one who spent the longest studying the maps of the area. Which way should we go?"

Illya turned and started leading them deeper into the woods at a leisurely place. Every so often he would dash out of sight for a few minutes; the first time he did it Gaby had called out after him, momentarily concerned, but then they realized he was scouting ahead for them or checking to make sure they weren't being followed. After two or three hours of trekking through the woods he returned from one of his jaunts and woofed softly, looking oddly smug with himself.

"Peril, you've outdone yourself." Somehow Illya had managed to discover an old shack that had been built into the hillside and surrounded by trees in a way that basically hid it from sight until they were practically on top of it. It wasn't much- the base of the two side walls and the entirety of the back one had been constructed out of stones while the rest of the walls and floor appeared to be nothing more than split logs cemented in place by some sort of mud mortar while the ceiling was made of pine boughs that had been tightly woven together. It certainly wouldn't win any architectural awards, but it was noticeably warmer inside. It didn't contain much, just a small shelf with a few candles on it and in the opposite corner, wrapped in a moth eaten canvas, a large wool blanket.

After sweeping the area around the candle free of dust Napoleon was in the process of lighting it when Gaby suddenly said, "And just where do you think you're going?" in a tone that was so menacing and cold, he nearly dropped his lighter. Illya must have reacted similarly as he now stood half in and out of the doorway, frozen in his tracks. "You don't need to leave; between this shelter and the blanket we should be able to keep you warm enough after you transform back."

Napoleon wouldn't have thought it was possible for a wolf to look panicked, but Illya certainly did. Obviously there was something more to Illya not wanting to return to his human form than just a lack of clothes but he didn't know enough about the process to know what it might be. "Are you unable to change back?" Ilya's eyes narrowed, giving him such an offended look Napoleon was instantly waving his hands frantically, trying to make amends for his faux pas by adding, "I meant because you're currently injured or due to the time of night or because of any of a million possible reasons presented by the current circumstances, not that you are, in general, physically unable to change back." 

"If it's not that, it better not be because you think we're scared or repulsed by you now that we know about… all of you. I, for one, already had my suspicions, and I'm sure Solo did as well."

"Guilty as charged," Napoleon replied when she glanced at him for confirmation. "We're not trying to make a joke out of this, Peril. This secret of yours can't have been something easy to share but when it came down to saving us or or your secret you chose us and that's not something to take lightly. If we survived the explosion, and that's a big if, the guards would have killed us. We owe you our lives."

"Illya, please. If you want to remain as you are now, then do so, but don't do it because you are afraid of our reactions, that our feelings towards you might have changed. You are our partner, the same as you were yesterday and will be tomorrow. All that is different is that we now are aware of more of your abilities and that you will use them to help and protect us; so let us return the favor and help you. Please stay so you have a chance to rest and we can dress your wounds."

"I know you doubled back several times and left false trails so you can't be worried about someone tracking us here so what.... Ah, if it's the shift itself that you're concerned about we can turn around," Napoleon suggested. 

After a long moment Illya dropped his head and sighed, reentering the shack and letting the door swing shut. He grabbed the blanket in his mouth and tugged it towards himself, grumbling deep within his throat in a way eerily similar to how he would mutter in Russian under his breath sometimes when Napoleon or Gaby frustrated him. 

"We'll give you some privacy," Gaby said, grabbing Napoleon tightly by the arm and turning so they both faced the back wall. 

Napoleon expected to hear noises as Illya's body shifted or cries of pain or something, anything, but within seconds there was a hoarse, "I am done, you can turn back now," and there was Illya in all his Russian glory, sitting on the floor, naked other than the blanket he had wrapped around himself, covering what he could. From what Napoleon could see, Illya's back was covered with cuts and bruises and a long gash ran from his left shoulder down to almost his elbow. Thankfully, it wasn't deep, but it was bleeding sluggishly.

Gaby knelt down next to him, gently cupping his cheek in her hand. "You look exhausted, Liebster. Let's get you bandaged up and then can rest for a bit."

Without being asked, Napoleon unbuttoned and removed his jacket and shirt, pulled off his undershirt and began tearing it into strips. "You did your part, Peril, now let us do ours. We've got you."

Leaning against Gaby, his energy all but gone, Illya still smiled. "I know you do, Cowboy. I know you do."


End file.
